I'm Tired

I

I never wanted to admit how much I love it here. Away from everyone, somewhere inside the mountain. No one was able to find me here without a map or proper coordinates or skills. A perfect place for someone so undeserving of the perfection. It wasn't cold here or too hot, just perfect like I wanted. I couldn't hear people in the town or any extra noises. My friends couldn't understand why I chose this place to build a house and not somewhere closer to the town. I don't blame them because they didn't see what I saw in the townsfolk. Even if I'm gonna be forced to live there, I'm not sure if I'll actually survive. Town full of liars, egoists, greedy rich people, and a complete package of rules. I don't mind those since I somehow survived as a child among them, but now that I had a choice, I just couldn't live there.

I was always told that I'm not better than them or that I'm not as unique as I think I am even though I didn't think so. I was told that I'm just being difficult and weird. But those who call themselves my friends sometimes had other thoughts. I'm glad at least some people were able to get closer to understanding what I mean, but none of them were there. Just say a thing that they don't like, and you become a brat, a liar, and all those hurtful mortal words. I never understood how they could be so hurtful to somebody who is not tied to that person. But alas, I don't care nor sure I will do later. I honestly don't care as much as it hurts the others. From what I've learned from life to what it turned me into. Yes, that might be heartless and cruel, but if it's someone I love or care about - I promise I will love you.

I never loved anyone, at least. Nor truly did. Some fictional characters that came and left my mind? Creator God just makes fun of me. I sighed and stood straight, rubbing my sore back. I was standing and enjoying the view. It was peaceful with the town far, far away but still visible. I looked at my little farm and some vegetables that were slowly but surely growing. Peaceful place. No one visited me in a long while, which was visible because my little cobblestone path was already overgrown. I was proud of it because I made it myself. Small achievement, but to me, it meant much more. I sighed and headed inside the house to grab some gardening scissors or whatever they're called to fix the cobblestone path.

As soon as I opened the door to my house, Bebzler walked over to me, greeting me with loud meows and affectionate rubs and purrs. Bebzler was my companion. I loved cats deeply. They always seem so calm and collected. Some are absolutely affectionate and loving. So you can say that I was a cat person. I also wouldn't mind being that type of person with tons of cats around them. I loved them more than humans. Yeah, they can be jerks, but cats don't hurt as much as people sometimes. "The claws may dig into the leg, but the leg is not the heart." How my favorite song says. I picked my giant Maine coon baby up and he climbed onto my shoulders himself. Oh gods, how heavy he is. A heavy, fluffy ball of love and affection. What else does a  human need? I kissed his forehead, and he made himself comfortable on my shoulders. Oh God... now I'm stuck here.

I carefully grabbed him and hugged, making it easier for me to move and for the cat to be comfortable. A few minutes later, he jumped off and began to simply follow me around as I did my chores and fixed my cobblestone path. Sometimes rumbling in my thoughts is nice and helps with stress. I didn't have anyone who I could talk to except for my cats. Bebzler is here, and Misty is probably sleeping on my bed. I straightened up and heard a quiet crack in my spine. Ouch. I swept the sweat off my forehead with my little grey rug and, after washing the tools in the bathroom and then washing the bathroom itself, started cooking breakfast for myself and my cats. It was around... 8 am. Bebzler jumped on the counter, stretching sweetly and flopping on his side. He loved watching me cook or do the dishes. I don't know why, nor I'll ever know. But I wish that I could talk to cats. They always look like they have a thing or two to say. Bebzler meowed, telling me that I need to keep making him breakfast. I giggled and scratched his forehead. His fur was light grey with some really dark and bright spots. He purred, probably thanking me for scratches. "Later, alright?" I told him and continued doing my stuff.

A few minutes later, I placed down their bowls of food and water. "Misty, come down, honey," I called out to her. And of course, minutes later, Misty was already running down the stairs. She was a common black cat, but she was as affectionate as Bebzler. Bebzler greeted her with a little lick on her cheek, and Misty meowed at him, rubbing her fluffy body against Bebzler's large one. And soon enough, two of them were basically devouring their breakfast. Hungry beasts.